warnings: slight!slow-burn, suguru is quite known as a virgin killer, mentions of hazing, smut, oral sex (f! receiving), pussy slapping, pierced dick, unprotected sex, body worship, possessive!suguru getou, slight!overstimulation, tummy bulge, cervix kissing (it’s fiction), slight!dacryphilia & gojou satoru. he’s his own warning.
summary: as he struggles to get your attention, suguru finds himself in an absurd bet that might finally give him what he wants.
author’s note: credits for the beautiful fanart to @/MrJieshisu on Twitter! this is for: @saintobio’s frat au collab! this is my piece including getou and i’m so excited to read what everyone else will be posting <3.
thinking about a domestic lifestyle with getou. sharing an apartment that isnt too modern yet has character. cozy, sandalwood scented rooms bc it’s his fav scent. waiting for him on the couch to come back from whatever task he’s up to. cooking together. watching shows together. showers, sleeping, cuddling, ALL OF IT WITH GETOU.
tags: AFAB reader, bestfriends to lovers, watching porn together, resolved sexual tension, mutual masturbation, no power dynamics, pussyjob, unprotected sex, creampie, porn without plot
wc: 3k
What was supposed to be a typical night in with your best friend after a week apart, spent with glasses still a third full of sake and snacks that you both absentmindedly graze on through the evening, had taken a turn as soon as Atsumu found that ridiculous quiz.
“How well do ya know yer best friend…” he’d murmurs furtively, meeting your questioning gaze over the top of his phone, “let’s see what we get!”
It started out innocently enough, wanting to know favourite colours and foods, how you’d first met and who your first kiss was. Slowly the questions became a little more invasive, prying about romantic preferences or how many people you’d slept with. But despite your apprehensions you answer all of them correctly, a true testament to your friendship with him.
And then the next one came.
“What type of porn does your best friend watch?”
In truth it had started as a joke. You could even go as far as to say it was an odd game of chicken, an attempt at pushing each other’s boundaries and seeing where the lines were after all your years of friendship.
“Isn’t this a little weird?”
“It’s as weird as you make it,” he sniffs as if he were saying something enigmatic. It’s a front, you could tell in the way his eyes determinedly never strayed from the screen of his iPad, pupils blown and nervously flickering over each video title.
“You better not make me watch any twin stuff,” you mutter as you settle back into the sofa cushions that had been piled up on the floor in an odd little nest. Atsumu always hated sitting like a normal person, and he felt that sofas were not wide or long enough for his legs, so you’d gotten used to sitting on the floor beside him.
He’s fighting a grin at your words, clearly amused and considering it, thus you regret saying anything at all.
“Don’t worry yer pretty little head,” he smirks, unfolding the case to his iPad out into a stand and setting it up on the coffee table, “m’not into twin stuff. The only thing I’ll ever share with ‘Samu is the womb”.
The lewd, wet sounds of two people kissing abruptly reverberates through the room and interrupts him, the video cut and edited in an inexperienced manner. Atsumu atleast has the decency to look abashed, his cheeks flushing as he quickly turns the volume down to a level that is less piercing.
“Fucking my hot roommate's creamy pussy until she can’t take it,” you snort as you recite the title out loud, “nice”.
“Glad ya think so,” he replies with an air of nonchalance that is so poorly maintained you could laugh, if it weren’t for the hot lead settling in your own stomach.
The pair on the screen continue to grope each other, their heavy panting tinny as it leaves the speakers. With a soft groan the man pulls down his ‘roommates’ vest, exposing her breasts to the camera, and her nipples quickly perk up against the cool air.
It feels amateur, even though it is so clearly filmed on a professional set.
He cups her tits and you watch as she arches up into the touch, the lower half of their faces briefly coming into frame to show as she sucks his tongue into her mouth.
The atmosphere shifts, and you can feel Atsumu’s stare heavily from where he sits beside you. “You’re s’posed to be watching the porn, not me,” you murmur.
“Try’na figure out what yer thinkin’” he says as he shifts in your peripheral, subtly readjusting his sweatpants.
You’re relieved for the opportunity to look at the scene critically, ignoring the urge to press your thighs together and quell the ache.
“I guess I’m surprised it’s so… tame,” as if prompted, the woman moans into her partner's mouth and the man responds in a language you can’t understand, rough and low, maybe Russian.
“I do think she’s faking it a bit. Exaggerating might be a better word,” you shrug. Atsumu clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“Maybe she’s just sensitive, d’ya ever think of that?”
Her spine curves beautifully, like the limb of a bow. Sensitive. The thought of being with someone so responsive and affected by you is nothing short of a dream. He’d sounded offended, almost. Defensive.
“Are you?” You find yourself asking, but his eyes are back on the iPad observing as more clothes are pulled off, and he hums questioningly as if the words didn’t register.
“Are you sensitive?” You ask again, and he turns his head to look at you, lips parted in disbelief and throat bobbing as he swallows.
“Odd question, don’cha think?”
“We are literally watching porn together,” you huff, admittedly a little embarrassed by your own curiosity, watching as he curls and uncurls his fist where it sits atop his thigh. He's an open book — always had been. And the sweatpants he’s wearing don’t hide much either.
The video cuts again, changing to a different angle and showing the perspective of the man as he sinks into his partner's pussy. Your eyes do not stray as she takes him, his cock on the thicker side, her thighs falling open instinctively to make room for him. It’s louder, the camera much closer, close enough to pick up the wet gasp between bodies as he rocks his hips.
Your heart throbs notably, in your chest, in your throat and in your pussy. You find that you’re mirroring Atsumu’s actions, clenching your fist to distract from the need to touch yourself, and then you wonder if he was doing it for that same reason.
“You can… if you need to…” you mumble, entirely aware of what it was you were suggesting and the weight of the consequences that might follow.
Judging by his expression, he was thinking something similar.
“Yer sayin’ I can touch myself?” He asks, the question coloured with incredulity and amusement as he sucks in his left cheek and bites down softly to fight the smirk making it's way onto his face.
“I’m saying if you need to then I don’t care!”
“So can you,” his throat bobs as he swallows, the pink of his tongue swiping across his lower lip, “if ya need to”.
But neither of you move to do so and the anticipation leaves your body rigid, thighs clenching to savour the small flutters of friction in your shorts. With nothing to say or do but wait and watch, the room fills with a cacophony of pitched moans and foreign curses.
The tension builds more and more until it’s almost tangible, like you could reach out and strum it between your fingers, and you’re ashamed by the relief that comes with Atsumu’s next tentative question.
“S’it really ok?”
“Yes,” you rasp, and you see in your periphery as his hand moves cautiously across his lap until he’s pushing the heel against his cock. His upper body slumps with his breathless exhale while his hips push up into the touch.
“You too,” he says, low and bordering a whine.
Whatever hesitation you had is gone at the first stroke of your fingers over your clothed pussy. The touch is muted, unintentionally teasing, and the thin material of your sleep shorts slowly begins to dampen.
“Fuck,” a voice groans, the word rough and drawn out into a hiss. It takes you a few moments to realise that it came from Atsumu and not the man on the screen, who is currently flipping his partner onto her knees.
The woman’s hips run from the returning stretch of his cock, crying out in sensitivity from her previous orgasm and sinking into the mattress. You press your fingers against your clit, the seam of your pants relieving some of the ache, pulsing in response to another of Atsumu’s breathy gasps.
He starts to shift his weight, the sofa cushions moving beneath him, and he hooks his thumbs into the waist of his sweatpants to begin shuffling them off. Your stare catches onto the gradual reveal of the trail of hair leading to his cock and you quickly look away.
Your shorts are wetter now, sliding easily against your skin and defining every fold. It feels good but it’s not enough to calm your need to be full, pussy clenching pitifully around nothing.
You're beginning to think Atsumu might’ve had the right idea. Pushing aside your own cowardice you follow his lead, lifting your hips from the floor to slide your shorts over the curve of your ass, glancing toward him as you do so.
With the waistband of his sweats strained around the thick of his thighs, leant back against the frame of the sofa with his head tilted onto his shoulder and eyes hung half lidded, he watches you in unabashed hunger. He seems enchanted in a way, your gaze drawn to the lazy stroke of his fist around his cock, lacking in rhythm and languid as he pauses to squeeze himself.
“You’re supposed to be watching the porn,” you tell him again, too aroused to care about the hoarseness of your own voice nor the hypocrisy of your statement.
“This is better,” he murmurs, and his pupils dilate at the perverse sound of you sliding two fingers into yourself. Warmth begins to blanket you under his heated stare, wondering if he was imagining himself sinking into you.
You track the movement of his chest as it rises and falls in mild exertion, his mouth agape and cheeks flushed, entirely debauched just at the sight of you touching yourself.
Whatever line had been between the two of you, it was already crossed and miles away.
“Wanna see?” You quietly ask.
“Yes,” he rasps as he reaches for you, turning his body to face you. You shift positions until you’re splayed on your back with your hips in his lap, legs loosely resting either side of his waist, completely on display for him.
“So fuckin’ wet”.
One of his hands remains curled into the fat of your thigh, honest in his reactions as his fingers twitch at the sight of you pulling back the hood of your clit. He strokes his cock again, thumbing the head, eyes flitting from your pussy to your face like he couldn’t bear to miss a thing.
As if waiting to give you a chance to stop him, he cautiously rocks his hips forward to rub the tip through your folds. You keen, a pleased hum reverberating in your chest like a purr when he rolls over your clit and soaks himself with your sex. It feels good, your body slowly being coaxed into warm bliss, pulse jumping in time with your breathing.
And he looks good, too. His brows drawn up and together in concentration, lips parted and jaw slacked with inundated pleasure. “Such a pretty pussy,” he slurs as he peeks at you from beneath heavy lidded eyes, “fuck. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this”.
You exhale a laugh and hush him, undulating your hips up to meet his growing rhythm. While the woman in the video cums once more you feel the head of his swollen cock catch against your entrance and he groans, chin tucking to his chest as he curls his body over you, dragging you further into his lap.
“‘Tsumu,” you mumble as he nuzzles his cheek into your chest and bunches up the material of your shirt, pressing his face against your breasts. Slowly he makes his way up your torso, ghosting his lips along the curve of your neck and bracing himself upon his forearms either side of you.
“I know we’re doin’ this a little backwards but—” he leans his forehead to yours, soft breaths felt against your skin as you wind your arms around his neck “—can I kiss ya?”
Tension rests heavily in your stomach. You look back at him, taking in the desire written so plainly all over his face, and you nod.
His hand cups around your jaw as he trusts his body weight to his other arm, tilting his head and lowering further until your mouths finally meet.
The first kiss is chaste, tender, and then comes the second, and the third. Atsumu kisses you with ever growing hunger, like he’ll never get the chance to again, tongue pushing between your parting lips to taste you.
He swallows every gasp, every moan. His hips continue to rock into yours, the wet sound of his cock passing through your slit barely heard over his speakers, and the fabric of his sweats rub against the back of your thighs with every movement. He’s vocal, insatiable, accent thickening with need as he groans into your mouth.
“Want you,” you pant between breaths, fingers threading into his hair for leverage as you rut up against him desperately.
“Yeah?” He says, hand leaving your jaw to slide along your thigh, the indents from his nails still carved into your skin, “y’got any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”
“You have me,” you murmur in response, “you can have me”.
Finally he reaches between your bodies, lightly teasing his fingers through your folds and gathering your slick to smoothly massage your clit.
You sigh as he toys with you, hips twitching while you squirm beneath him. He returns to your lips, slow and languid as he kisses you, feeling his mouth pull into a grin as you whimper.
“That good?” He asks hazily, “y’gonna cum?”
Your grip tightens in his hair, nodding frantically as you feel the familiar tightening of your abdomen. And then, with a simple shift of his knees, you feel the head of his cock kiss your entrance. Unforgiving as he rubs tight circles into your clit, he sinks into you slowly, and everything spills over.
Gasping, you cum on his cock, pussy contracting with each wave that washes over you. He moans breathlessly against the swell of your cheek, as if he were feeling it alongside you, hips held still against your own and riding you through it with just his fingers.
“So gorgeous,” he says softly, “got no idea what y'do to me, do ya?”
“I think I can guess,” you say, teasing and returning to yourself. His cock twitches inside of you, still straining with the effort of trying not to move, and you ease up your grip in his hair to gently scratch your nails against his scalp. He shudders.
“Fuck me, ‘Tsumu”.
You both moan softly as he lifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock out of you, your pussy clenching around the emptiness it leaves behind. With only the tip left he pauses and pulls back just enough to watch as he fills you up again.
“God,” he hisses.
Despite your impatience you find yourself grateful for his pace, still sensitive and reeling from your first orgasm. It gives you time to watch the subtle shifts in his expression, the fluttering of his lashes, how his mouth shapes around a silent ‘O’, how his ears flush red.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he pants feverishly as he fucks his cock into you over and over, “wanna see ya cum again”.
And when he adjusts his hips just right, your feet lock tight around the small of his back.
“There,” you plead breathily, “jus’ like that”.
The room is hot, suffocating, the weight of his body blanketing you and the smell of sex overwhelming in the best way. Tension accumulates once again throughout your body, a string pulled taut and fragile, teetering over the edge and feeling that breathtaking swoop through your stomach.
His cock pushes the air from your lungs, and then he kisses you again, tempting your tongue into his mouth and gently sucking on it. You whimper, muffled, sinking further into the sofa cushions piled beneath your bodies.
“Baby,” he says desperately, “m’gonna cum. Want ya to cum with me—”
He leans his body away from you enough to slip a hand between you, warm fingers quickly finding your swollen clit and flickering back and forth over it.
“Fuck, ‘Tsumu,” you begin to pulse around him, “cumming, I’m cumming—”
Your body stills for a moment as the air catches in your throat and your orgasm washes over you. You moan breathlessly once you break the surface, the steady rock of his hips coaxing you through it until all the rigidity is pulled from your body.
Through the haze you graze your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling and satiated, and you tell him to cum.
With disjointed curses and a wounded sob, Atsumu’s hips jerk forward forcefully against the back of your thighs for a final time, your body rocking with the movement as he cums.
He grinds his hips into you lazily, prolonging the sensation and seemingly relishing the sensitivity. You cradle his head against your collar as his arms give way and his entire weight swaddles you, enjoying the afterglow.
The content atmosphere is shortly cut through by an exaggerated moan from the iPad speakers.
“Fuck,” he rasps into the dip of your throat before pushing himself back up on to his forearms, glancing over his shoulder at the video that is still playing.
“How the fuck are they still goin’?”
You laugh fondly at his disdain, slipping your hand up the curve of his arm to squeeze his bicep in amused reassurance.
“They take breaks between takes you know, drink water and stuff,” you murmur, “it’s not real”.
He hums in thought, pupils still tracking the movement of the male actor's hips, then leans back onto the heels of his feet to stand. You wince as he slips out of you, his release now dripping onto the cushions.
“Where are you going?” You panic, and he crouches again only to press his lips to yours tenderly, once and then twice.
“M’goin’ to get water and stuff,” he grins, “y’gotta show me yours now”.
this is beyond amazing. the chemistry beautifully written between reader n atsumu makes me transport. the visuals while reading this… WOOOOO. this is gonna plague my mind for a while n i am MORE than okay with that
thank you so much!!!! I was worried that the story itself would come off like a porn script ladjkskfkf I’m happy that people found the progression to smut natural!
tags: AFAB reader, bestfriends to lovers, watching porn together, resolved sexual tension, mutual masturbation, no power dynamics, pussyjob, unprotected sex, creampie, porn without plot
wc: 3k
What was supposed to be a typical night in with your best friend after a week apart, spent with glasses still a third full of sake and snacks that you both absentmindedly graze on through the evening, had taken a turn as soon as Atsumu found that ridiculous quiz.
“How well do ya know yer best friend…” he’d murmurs furtively, meeting your questioning gaze over the top of his phone, “let’s see what we get!”
It started out innocently enough, wanting to know favourite colours and foods, how you’d first met and who your first kiss was. Slowly the questions became a little more invasive, prying about romantic preferences or how many people you’d slept with. But despite your apprehensions you answer all of them correctly, a true testament to your friendship with him.
And then the next one came.
“What type of porn does your best friend watch?”
In truth it had started as a joke. You could even go as far as to say it was an odd game of chicken, an attempt at pushing each other’s boundaries and seeing where the lines were after all your years of friendship.
“Isn’t this a little weird?”
“It’s as weird as you make it,” he sniffs as if he were saying something enigmatic. It’s a front, you could tell in the way his eyes determinedly never strayed from the screen of his iPad, pupils blown and nervously flickering over each video title.
“You better not make me watch any twin stuff,” you mutter as you settle back into the sofa cushions that had been piled up on the floor in an odd little nest. Atsumu always hated sitting like a normal person, and he felt that sofas were not wide or long enough for his legs, so you’d gotten used to sitting on the floor beside him.
He’s fighting a grin at your words, clearly amused and considering it, thus you regret saying anything at all.
“Don’t worry yer pretty little head,” he smirks, unfolding the case to his iPad out into a stand and setting it up on the coffee table, “m’not into twin stuff. The only thing I’ll ever share with ‘Samu is the womb”.
The lewd, wet sounds of two people kissing abruptly reverberates through the room and interrupts him, the video cut and edited in an inexperienced manner. Atsumu atleast has the decency to look abashed, his cheeks flushing as he quickly turns the volume down to a level that is less piercing.
“Fucking my hot roommate's creamy pussy until she can’t take it,” you snort as you recite the title out loud, “nice”.
“Glad ya think so,” he replies with an air of nonchalance that is so poorly maintained you could laugh, if it weren’t for the hot lead settling in your own stomach.
The pair on the screen continue to grope each other, their heavy panting tinny as it leaves the speakers. With a soft groan the man pulls down his ‘roommates’ vest, exposing her breasts to the camera, and her nipples quickly perk up against the cool air.
It feels amateur, even though it is so clearly filmed on a professional set.
He cups her tits and you watch as she arches up into the touch, the lower half of their faces briefly coming into frame to show as she sucks his tongue into her mouth.
The atmosphere shifts, and you can feel Atsumu’s stare heavily from where he sits beside you. “You’re s’posed to be watching the porn, not me,” you murmur.
“Try’na figure out what yer thinkin’” he says as he shifts in your peripheral, subtly readjusting his sweatpants.
You’re relieved for the opportunity to look at the scene critically, ignoring the urge to press your thighs together and quell the ache.
“I guess I’m surprised it’s so… tame,” as if prompted, the woman moans into her partner's mouth and the man responds in a language you can’t understand, rough and low, maybe Russian.
“I do think she’s faking it a bit. Exaggerating might be a better word,” you shrug. Atsumu clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“Maybe she’s just sensitive, d’ya ever think of that?”
Her spine curves beautifully, like the limb of a bow. Sensitive. The thought of being with someone so responsive and affected by you is nothing short of a dream. He’d sounded offended, almost. Defensive.
“Are you?” You find yourself asking, but his eyes are back on the iPad observing as more clothes are pulled off, and he hums questioningly as if the words didn’t register.
“Are you sensitive?” You ask again, and he turns his head to look at you, lips parted in disbelief and throat bobbing as he swallows.
“Odd question, don’cha think?”
“We are literally watching porn together,” you huff, admittedly a little embarrassed by your own curiosity, watching as he curls and uncurls his fist where it sits atop his thigh. He's an open book — always had been. And the sweatpants he’s wearing don’t hide much either.
The video cuts again, changing to a different angle and showing the perspective of the man as he sinks into his partner's pussy. Your eyes do not stray as she takes him, his cock on the thicker side, her thighs falling open instinctively to make room for him. It’s louder, the camera much closer, close enough to pick up the wet gasp between bodies as he rocks his hips.
Your heart throbs notably, in your chest, in your throat and in your pussy. You find that you’re mirroring Atsumu’s actions, clenching your fist to distract from the need to touch yourself, and then you wonder if he was doing it for that same reason.
“You can… if you need to…” you mumble, entirely aware of what it was you were suggesting and the weight of the consequences that might follow.
Judging by his expression, he was thinking something similar.
“Yer sayin’ I can touch myself?” He asks, the question coloured with incredulity and amusement as he sucks in his left cheek and bites down softly to fight the smirk making it's way onto his face.
“I’m saying if you need to then I don’t care!”
“So can you,” his throat bobs as he swallows, the pink of his tongue swiping across his lower lip, “if ya need to”.
But neither of you move to do so and the anticipation leaves your body rigid, thighs clenching to savour the small flutters of friction in your shorts. With nothing to say or do but wait and watch, the room fills with a cacophony of pitched moans and foreign curses.
The tension builds more and more until it’s almost tangible, like you could reach out and strum it between your fingers, and you’re ashamed by the relief that comes with Atsumu’s next tentative question.
“S’it really ok?”
“Yes,” you rasp, and you see in your periphery as his hand moves cautiously across his lap until he’s pushing the heel against his cock. His upper body slumps with his breathless exhale while his hips push up into the touch.
“You too,” he says, low and bordering a whine.
Whatever hesitation you had is gone at the first stroke of your fingers over your clothed pussy. The touch is muted, unintentionally teasing, and the thin material of your sleep shorts slowly begins to dampen.
“Fuck,” a voice groans, the word rough and drawn out into a hiss. It takes you a few moments to realise that it came from Atsumu and not the man on the screen, who is currently flipping his partner onto her knees.
The woman’s hips run from the returning stretch of his cock, crying out in sensitivity from her previous orgasm and sinking into the mattress. You press your fingers against your clit, the seam of your pants relieving some of the ache, pulsing in response to another of Atsumu’s breathy gasps.
He starts to shift his weight, the sofa cushions moving beneath him, and he hooks his thumbs into the waist of his sweatpants to begin shuffling them off. Your stare catches onto the gradual reveal of the trail of hair leading to his cock and you quickly look away.
Your shorts are wetter now, sliding easily against your skin and defining every fold. It feels good but it’s not enough to calm your need to be full, pussy clenching pitifully around nothing.
You're beginning to think Atsumu might’ve had the right idea. Pushing aside your own cowardice you follow his lead, lifting your hips from the floor to slide your shorts over the curve of your ass, glancing toward him as you do so.
With the waistband of his sweats strained around the thick of his thighs, leant back against the frame of the sofa with his head tilted onto his shoulder and eyes hung half lidded, he watches you in unabashed hunger. He seems enchanted in a way, your gaze drawn to the lazy stroke of his fist around his cock, lacking in rhythm and languid as he pauses to squeeze himself.
“You’re supposed to be watching the porn,” you tell him again, too aroused to care about the hoarseness of your own voice nor the hypocrisy of your statement.
“This is better,” he murmurs, and his pupils dilate at the perverse sound of you sliding two fingers into yourself. Warmth begins to blanket you under his heated stare, wondering if he was imagining himself sinking into you.
You track the movement of his chest as it rises and falls in mild exertion, his mouth agape and cheeks flushed, entirely debauched just at the sight of you touching yourself.
Whatever line had been between the two of you, it was already crossed and miles away.
“Wanna see?” You quietly ask.
“Yes,” he rasps as he reaches for you, turning his body to face you. You shift positions until you’re splayed on your back with your hips in his lap, legs loosely resting either side of his waist, completely on display for him.
“So fuckin’ wet”.
One of his hands remains curled into the fat of your thigh, honest in his reactions as his fingers twitch at the sight of you pulling back the hood of your clit. He strokes his cock again, thumbing the head, eyes flitting from your pussy to your face like he couldn’t bear to miss a thing.
As if waiting to give you a chance to stop him, he cautiously rocks his hips forward to rub the tip through your folds. You keen, a pleased hum reverberating in your chest like a purr when he rolls over your clit and soaks himself with your sex. It feels good, your body slowly being coaxed into warm bliss, pulse jumping in time with your breathing.
And he looks good, too. His brows drawn up and together in concentration, lips parted and jaw slacked with inundated pleasure. “Such a pretty pussy,” he slurs as he peeks at you from beneath heavy lidded eyes, “fuck. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this”.
You exhale a laugh and hush him, undulating your hips up to meet his growing rhythm. While the woman in the video cums once more you feel the head of his swollen cock catch against your entrance and he groans, chin tucking to his chest as he curls his body over you, dragging you further into his lap.
“‘Tsumu,” you mumble as he nuzzles his cheek into your chest and bunches up the material of your shirt, pressing his face against your breasts. Slowly he makes his way up your torso, ghosting his lips along the curve of your neck and bracing himself upon his forearms either side of you.
“I know we’re doin’ this a little backwards but—” he leans his forehead to yours, soft breaths felt against your skin as you wind your arms around his neck “—can I kiss ya?”
Tension rests heavily in your stomach. You look back at him, taking in the desire written so plainly all over his face, and you nod.
His hand cups around your jaw as he trusts his body weight to his other arm, tilting his head and lowering further until your mouths finally meet.
The first kiss is chaste, tender, and then comes the second, and the third. Atsumu kisses you with ever growing hunger, like he’ll never get the chance to again, tongue pushing between your parting lips to taste you.
He swallows every gasp, every moan. His hips continue to rock into yours, the wet sound of his cock passing through your slit barely heard over his speakers, and the fabric of his sweats rub against the back of your thighs with every movement. He’s vocal, insatiable, accent thickening with need as he groans into your mouth.
“Want you,” you pant between breaths, fingers threading into his hair for leverage as you rut up against him desperately.
“Yeah?” He says, hand leaving your jaw to slide along your thigh, the indents from his nails still carved into your skin, “y’got any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”
“You have me,” you murmur in response, “you can have me”.
Finally he reaches between your bodies, lightly teasing his fingers through your folds and gathering your slick to smoothly massage your clit.
You sigh as he toys with you, hips twitching while you squirm beneath him. He returns to your lips, slow and languid as he kisses you, feeling his mouth pull into a grin as you whimper.
“That good?” He asks hazily, “y’gonna cum?”
Your grip tightens in his hair, nodding frantically as you feel the familiar tightening of your abdomen. And then, with a simple shift of his knees, you feel the head of his cock kiss your entrance. Unforgiving as he rubs tight circles into your clit, he sinks into you slowly, and everything spills over.
Gasping, you cum on his cock, pussy contracting with each wave that washes over you. He moans breathlessly against the swell of your cheek, as if he were feeling it alongside you, hips held still against your own and riding you through it with just his fingers.
“So gorgeous,” he says softly, “got no idea what y'do to me, do ya?”
“I think I can guess,” you say, teasing and returning to yourself. His cock twitches inside of you, still straining with the effort of trying not to move, and you ease up your grip in his hair to gently scratch your nails against his scalp. He shudders.
“Fuck me, ‘Tsumu”.
You both moan softly as he lifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock out of you, your pussy clenching around the emptiness it leaves behind. With only the tip left he pauses and pulls back just enough to watch as he fills you up again.
“God,” he hisses.
Despite your impatience you find yourself grateful for his pace, still sensitive and reeling from your first orgasm. It gives you time to watch the subtle shifts in his expression, the fluttering of his lashes, how his mouth shapes around a silent ‘O’, how his ears flush red.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he pants feverishly as he fucks his cock into you over and over, “wanna see ya cum again”.
And when he adjusts his hips just right, your feet lock tight around the small of his back.
“There,” you plead breathily, “jus’ like that”.
The room is hot, suffocating, the weight of his body blanketing you and the smell of sex overwhelming in the best way. Tension accumulates once again throughout your body, a string pulled taut and fragile, teetering over the edge and feeling that breathtaking swoop through your stomach.
His cock pushes the air from your lungs, and then he kisses you again, tempting your tongue into his mouth and gently sucking on it. You whimper, muffled, sinking further into the sofa cushions piled beneath your bodies.
“Baby,” he says desperately, “m’gonna cum. Want ya to cum with me—”
He leans his body away from you enough to slip a hand between you, warm fingers quickly finding your swollen clit and flickering back and forth over it.
“Fuck, ‘Tsumu,” you begin to pulse around him, “cumming, I’m cumming—”
Your body stills for a moment as the air catches in your throat and your orgasm washes over you. You moan breathlessly once you break the surface, the steady rock of his hips coaxing you through it until all the rigidity is pulled from your body.
Through the haze you graze your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling and satiated, and you tell him to cum.
With disjointed curses and a wounded sob, Atsumu’s hips jerk forward forcefully against the back of your thighs for a final time, your body rocking with the movement as he cums.
He grinds his hips into you lazily, prolonging the sensation and seemingly relishing the sensitivity. You cradle his head against your collar as his arms give way and his entire weight swaddles you, enjoying the afterglow.
The content atmosphere is shortly cut through by an exaggerated moan from the iPad speakers.
“Fuck,” he rasps into the dip of your throat before pushing himself back up on to his forearms, glancing over his shoulder at the video that is still playing.
“How the fuck are they still goin’?”
You laugh fondly at his disdain, slipping your hand up the curve of his arm to squeeze his bicep in amused reassurance.
“They take breaks between takes you know, drink water and stuff,” you murmur, “it’s not real”.
He hums in thought, pupils still tracking the movement of the male actor's hips, then leans back onto the heels of his feet to stand. You wince as he slips out of you, his release now dripping onto the cushions.
“Where are you going?” You panic, and he crouches again only to press his lips to yours tenderly, once and then twice.
“M’goin’ to get water and stuff,” he grins, “y’gotta show me yours now”.
this is beyond amazing. the chemistry beautifully written between reader n atsumu makes me transport. the visuals while reading this… WOOOOO. this is gonna plague my mind for a while n i am MORE than okay with that
Cw: angst if you squint, fluff, suggestive themes (its like barely a makeout scene and one suggestive joke), healthy communication
Wordcount: 1.1k
Notes: this was supposed to be a lot fluffier but i can't help myself🧍🏻♀️tysm kav @kaimaara for the request, it was so much fun i hope u like this <3 also ty to @igumie & @bnha-free-writing for beta reading ily guys mwahh
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“Satoru, stop fuckin’ squirming.”
The menace in question just giggles in response, his nose scrunching up adorably as he jerks back from your hand. “I can’t help it! I’m ticklish, y’know.”
He pokes his tongue out at you, you pinch his nose in retaliation and watch him bat away at your wrist. You sigh dramatically, glaring at him with no real malice. Satoru is being difficult, even more so than usual that is, but you can’t find it in you to feel anything beyond mild annoyance towards him. How could you? This is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in weeks. Your fingers move from the perched tip of his nose to his cheek, thumb gently tracing the dark circles beneath his eye. They’re barely visible, but the fact that they’re there is concerning on its own. He hums some nonsensical melody while leaning into your touch, his grin softening into something much more delicate. And you wonder how someone who has seen the universe for all it’s endless ugliness can smile at you like he holds nothing but love in his heart.
Satoru presses a finger between your eyebrows, smoothing out the unconscious forrow in them.
“You’re gonna get all wrinkly if you keep frowning so much,” he retracts his hand, opting to place it overtop yours on his cheek. Pillowy lips press against your wrist before you can act out on the urge to pinch him. “What’s that pretty little head worrying about now, hm?”
You sigh contently this time and your fingers continue to pamper the spoiled man you’re straddling. It’s no use keeping secrets from him, anyway. “You.”
Satoru pauses in his mission to kiss every inch of your hand that he can reach, only briefly, before pressing a loud, wet kiss right on the middle of your palm.
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
“Satoru—”
“I’m fine,” his voice is muffled by your hand but you hear the rising irritation in it all the same.
You knew this moment would come eventually. Typically, when he avoids confrontation like this, you would let it go and silently comfort him as best as you can instead. Satoru has never been the best when it comes to the more… serious aspects of relationships to begin with, you knew that and still took a risk on him. You know he’s trying for you, you can see it in the way he opens up more about his job, his missions, his students, but he has refused your helping hand every time you’ve held it out to him, even when he desperately needs it. As much as you’d love to delude yourself that what you have right now is fine and enough you know it won’t be in the future. Your relationship won’t go anywhere good if he keeps avoiding vulnerability.
With his hair pulled back by his blindfold-makeshift-bandana, you can clearly see the discolored patch of skin right below his hairline, just one of the many mysteries he makes sure you’re not privy to. Your hand moves from his cheek to brush against the scar, he doesn’t resist. Knowing that he’s mortal is one thing, but having physical proof of that is another. It’s jarring, a reminder that at some point even he was not untouchable.
He’s yet to outright pull away from your touch but you know not to push your luck. Steadying yourself by holding on to his shoulders and shifting closer in his lap, you resist the urge to kiss his grumpy little pout. How dare he be so cute even when he’s upset? You reach for the cream face mask container as he loosely wraps his arms around your waist, shuffling you even closer to his chest.
“You know it’s okay to need things, right?” you evenly apply the cream across his high cheekbones, snorting as his nose scrunches up again but he remains still. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything on your mind, nor am I asking you to tell me anything you’re not ready to either, just… rely on me more if you need it, you know.”
Satoru remains silent for a moment, letting your words sink in while you continue applying the face mask. This is really not how he wants to spend his day off but he can’t deny he’s been evading this conversation for a while. He simply doesn’t see the point of burdening you with his inner problems; there’s very little he could do about them, getting his significant other who has only been introduced to the world of jujutsu sorcery for a little over a year now involved wouldn’t be very productive. He tells himself that’s all there is to it, not his inherent need to uphold the role of being the strongest in every way possible. Definitely not that.
“Most of my problems are too big for either of us to handle, sweetheart, that’s all,” he bites the inside of his cheek as you deflate a bit. He hates that dejected look, he hates that he’s the cause of it. Still, you nod understandingly, and Satoru wonders how anyone as angelic as you ended up with him of all people. He almost feels bad that someone else more deserving of you isn’t there to cherish you properly. Almost. He’s a greedy man, no complaints sit on his tongue.
“Alright,” you say, just above a whisper, contemplating your next words carefully lest he run back into his metaphorical shell. “But let me help with the problems that I can handle, okay? I just wanna help you unwind a bit, Satoru.”
Satoru’s no saint, he’s reminded of that fact when he finds himself enjoying the lilt of desperation and worry in your words, the plush pucker on your lips. He feels cared for, and for the first time in years he doesn’t feel the instinctive urge that yells at him to bolt the other way. He leans in to capture your lips, some of his face mask smears on your skin but you truly cannot care about the mess when he kisses you like he’s baring his soul for you to take. Your fingers are woven into his hair, his hands are securing you by the hips against his body and you’re both panting by the time he lets you go. Satoru swipes the smudge of cream off of your face and that obnoxious grin you know all too well—love way too much—is back on his face.
“Help me unwind, huh? I can think of a few ways to do that,” his eyebrows wag insufferably, and you contemplate for a moment if punching him is worth getting cream all over your fist.
“Not like that, you perv,” you roll your eyes but smile at him nonetheless, he grins a little brighter.
“I’ll try to talk to you more when I’m not feeling the best.”
You nearly click your tongue at his wording, choosing to give him one last chaste kiss instead. He’s trying for you, he wants this to work too. Your lips quirk up against his at the thought.
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